


When You’re Living On Your Knees, You Rise Up

by prettybirdy979



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Reunions, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Galra Empire, Gen, Hope, Minor Character Death, Not Season/Series 02 Compliant, POV Outsider, Rebellion, Resistance, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:49:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9604715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybirdy979/pseuds/prettybirdy979
Summary: Here's the thing about hope - it's really easy to spread and tends to be one of the hardest things to kill. And a whisper of hope can do so many things; from making a good piece of art, to saving a life.Hope can bring down an empire, if there's enough of it in the right places.Right now though, Sam Holt isn't looking to bring down an empire. He just wants to live through this, with Matt by his side. But he has a whisper of hope, this 'Voltron' and maybe if he applies it in the right places...Well they might not have enough to take down an empire but a prison colony seems within reach.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this monster just after I saw the first season. It's taken me until now to finish it and I'm publishing despite season two jossing it because it's too damned long to sit and gather dust in my drive.
> 
> Warnings for perhaps a bit watered down but no less awful experiences of prisoners in a slave camp planning a revolution and all that entails - death, suicidal thoughts, survivors' guilt. It gets bad before it gets good.
> 
> Also thanks to Zwaluw and lourdesdeath for pushing me into finishing this. I wouldn't have managed without you guys!

It starts as a whisper.

A rumour, slipping between prisoners in their shared cells and passed from group to group during the scarce moments they have of downtime during the day. Started from an overheard conversation between guards, it’s nothing more than the quiet hope of those beyond it.

There is a force working against the Galra Empire. And it is coming for them. To  _ free _ them.

As if it is a given that they can be freed.

Sam Holt wants to dismiss it, wants to put it out of his mind and focus on living through this. What use is a whisper, a rumour, to a man denied his freedom - and, for a long time his son until Takashi's miracle - by beings who do not seem to care? Will a rumour help him survive the long days of work, the backbreaking digging that he’s only useful for because the sunlight on this planet is weak and he more resistant to its effects than most others?

But that’s the thing. The reason why Sam listens. Because he does want to survive and he knows, better than anyone, that you cannot survive without hope. He’s always been one to find the good in things, even manufactured vegetables, and in this situation the only good is the hope that you will get out of it.

So Voltron might be a whisper, but a whisper of hope is better than nothing.

********

‘It true,’ Ga’Kalaaatic whispers to their cell one night, months after Sam first heard the rumour of Voltron. Xe leans in a little closer and Sam, after checking there’s no guards passing, leans in too, the last member of their little cell to do so.  

It’s a cramped cell, made more so by the multitude of bodies stuffed into it. Sam’s sure it’s meant to hold one person not the ten or so crammed into it. But this place is bursting at the seams as the ever increasing demand for workers is met but not the logical need for infrastructure to house them. The prisoners’ population has doubled since Sam’s arrival but only one new block of cells has been built. 

Because the Galra have priorities and housing prisoners correctly is not one of them.

‘Voltron?’ Matt whispers back, reaching for Sam’s hand and leaning into him. Sam gives it to him instantly, squeezing tightly. Having his son at hand is a blessing, considering that for a while there he thought Matt dead in an arena. 

Like Takashi - no Shiro, Sam can’t think of him using his first name without a pang of grief for his lost boy -  is, may whatever Gods or forces of nature that exist bless him. He gave Sam his son back - for however little it counts in this place and no matter how timid the now limping Matt is - while offering his own life in payment. Sam owes him everything. But there’s been no news of the Champion for a year now by Sam’s admittedly rough count and… well. No news is not good news in this sort of situation. 

Ga’Kalaaatic nods, the feathers on top of xir head bopping up and down with xir eagerness. ‘I overhear one of guards on my line,’ xe says, ‘they be in orbit over a planet Voltron liberate, one of few survivors of battle.’

Sam can’t seem to breathe, not over the lump in his throat that might be…  _ hope _ ? Ga’Kalaaatic is one of the few prisoners fluent in the dialect of Galran the guards use to talk to another, which is some sort of high register Galran, different to the pidgin version the prisoners use. Sam’s picked up the later in the year and a half - so long but he mustn’t linger, must keep fighting - he’s been here but the former still eludes him. He suspects it might require organs he doesn’t have or a range of hearing beyond human limits. 

But anyway. If Ga’Kalaaatic says that’s what was said, then that was what was said. Voltron is  _ real _ . 

‘Voltron is et child’s tale,’ hisses Enor, ‘et  _ legend _ .’

‘What are legends, but truths distorted by time?’ Matt says, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Sam feels his heart fluttering at Matt’s words - they’re  _ his words _ though he’s not had cause to say them for… well for years now. ‘And this Voltron might not be the one from the stories, just someone using its name as a rallying point.’

A few beings hum, agreeable noises that drown out Enor’s disbelieving growl. Sam decides to ignore him; he’s not well liked among the prisoners for a reason that goes well beyond the apparently universal distrust species have for beings with eight long and hairy legs. A fear of spiders, it seems, unites many races of the universe. 

The scientist in Sam, buried deep right now under his need to survive and the military training he’s using to do so, glows with warmth at the observation. One day he’s going to investigate all the universal constants he can find between beings, and one day he’ll have the freedom to do so. He has to believe he will.

‘How close?’ Èhàltik hisses, her forked tongue slipping out to touch her nose. ‘How system? How close?’

The last sentence is too loud and they all shush her, Sam’s eyes darting to look outside. Ice pours into his veins as a guard walks past, but the man - machine? Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference - walks past without looking. Usual patrols. They’re fine.

Forces above, let them be fine.

When the footsteps fade the whole cell seems to breathe out in relief, a chorus of sighs. ‘I did no hear,’ Ga’Kalaaatic admits in a low tone after a long moment of silence. ‘They make me move on before I can.’

‘Close enough to transfer them here,’ Matt says in a light tone that has Sam squeezing his hand again. He can hear the cracks in it, the way his voice wavers. ‘Maybe close enough Voltron will be here soon.’

His words might be quiet but they ring in Sam’s ears… in everyone’s ears, judging by the looks on their faces. Sam’s gotten good at reading alien expressions; he’s had to (though the further they are from the harder it gets, curse his short sightedness). ‘If… when Voltron comes,’ he says, speaking to the group for the first time while swallowing a soft smile at the wide eyes directed at him, ‘we should be ready.’

‘R-r-ready for what?’ asks the horse like Haore, another first time speaker, looking at Sam with large, brown eyes. Like Katie’s eyes… like  _ Matt’s _ . 

‘To fight,’ Sam says as another guard appears at their door. Holding his breath, Sam waits for the guard to leave. 

But he - it? - does not. Instead he just stands there, looking up and down the hallway outside the cell. Sam can’t seem to manage to think, the tension in the cell driven up with each second the guard stays there. Did he hear? Are they in trouble?

‘Lazy ass,’ Matt hisses, right into Sam’s ear causing his heart to thunder away as ice cold panic races through him. ‘Our cell’s halfway down the hallway - he’s standing there so he doesn’t have to walk it.’

Sam collapses into Matt as the relief turns his muscles to mush. They weren’t overheard, the guard’s just lazy. He looks around the cell, seeing the brightness of his relief reflected in the other beings in the space. Nothing has changed, their words have not fallen on hostile ears. 

They’re still safe… as much as they can be in this situation.

But it does mean no more conversation tonight.

********

‘You say we should be ready to fight,’ Ga’Kalaaatic says the next night, waiting until the guard’s footsteps stop echoing and they can be certain they’re alone before xe speaks. ‘How? We have no weapons.’

Sam and Matt have taken a place in the centre of the cell instead of being in their usual huddle against a wall, prepared to have this conversation. It’s… nice, to be a team again, focused on a mission beyond just living through the next moment. Being a team might make Sam’s heart throb at the missing link, that team member they were forced to leave behind. But it also fills him with something light and warming. 

This is what they’re in space to do. Work together to solve a problem. 

Sure these beings might not be what was in mind for their teammates but who cares? They’ll be just as good as any human.

No, not ‘just as good’. They’re  _ perfect _ because they’re here. Living, breathing beings who Sam can help and be helped by.

‘But we have numbers,’ Matt says before Sam can open his mouth. Sam looks at his son, surprise running through him at Matt’s boldness. ‘And we’ll have the advantage of surprise.’ 

A few beings nod their heads. ‘Two front war is an effective way of s-s-splitting your enemy’s attention,’ Èhàltik says thoughtfully. ‘Might give Voltron much needed time to win the battle.’

‘And our pack will be doing  _ something _ ,’ Jocab growls, flashing his sharp teeth. ‘Better to die fighting than to live in chains.’

‘But but but… w-w-what if we do die?’ Haore says, her head lowered. ‘Or w-w-w-worse, what if w-w-we live and Voltron  _ loses _ ? Then w-w-what? I don’t w-w-want to end up in an arena…’ She tosses her hair - mane? - and looks up at Sam through her long lashes. ‘This isn’t much of a life, but but but at least w-w-we’re  _ alive _ .’ 

To Sam’s surprise, it is not Matt who speaks but Kimera, the oldest of the prisoners here. ‘A life worth living is a life worth dying for,’ she says and Sam aches at the pain in her voice. How long has she been here? Years? Decades? ‘I have never known a life worth dying for. I will take this chance…any chance to know one.’ 

She pauses, then shifts towards Haore, reaching out her blue and wrinkled hand to lift Haore’s head up so Kimera can look her in the eyes. ‘I do not know your Gods but I know mine. They will welcome me to their tables if I die fighting for this freedom you speak of.’

Haore breathes out, a long shuddering whinny of a breath, before nodding. Kimera gives her a soft smile before letting her head go. She stays close to Haore, letting the smaller being rest against her.

‘So it’s agreed,’ Sam says, drawing attention away from the two beings. ‘When Voltron comes, we’ll-’ Sam chokes as he realises he doesn’t have the word for this in Galran. Of course he doesn’t, when has he ever had the chance to hear it spoken?

But... maybe he doesn’t need it?  ‘-rebel? We will rebel.’

Rebel. It’s like Sam’s words are lightning, sparking in the air. They might not know the word but Sam hopes his meaning is clear. It must be, from the way everyone sits up straighter. They look at him, with eyes that remind him of the cadets back home in the informal unofficial but highly attended first year class he always taught - Surviving the Garrison 101.

He bets that’s been cancelled. Iverson always hated giving the cadets a helping hand.

With the gazes upon him, Sam feels steel settle in his spine. He’s going to help these people. They might be prisoners but they can be  _ rebels _ too. He’ll lead them like he tried to lead Shiro and Matt - and this time, he’s going to get them home.

‘Rebel,’ Kimera says, smiling and nodding slightly as she tries the word out. ‘Yes. We will be a rebel.’

‘Rebellion,’ Matt corrects and the gazes on Sam shift to his son. ‘In… in our language, you are rebels, fighting a rebellion when you rebel.’ Haore snorts and Matt rolls his eyes, the smile on his face warming Sam’s heart. ‘I know, our language is strange.’

‘Strange is good,’ Ga’Kalaaatic says, ruffling her feathers a bit. ‘Strange means guards will no know what we say.’

Jocab leans in, his furry ears pointed towards Sam. ‘Our pack will need a symbol, so we know who is pack and who is not.’ He twitches his ears, and glances over his shoulder. ‘Some not-pack work with the guards, inform. We need symbol.’

Sam looks down at his hands, one resting as always on Matt’s. Matt twitches his hand and opens his fingers, forming a v shape with the pointer and middle finger.

‘I have it,’ Sam whispers and makes the peace sign. ‘This.’

‘The peace sign?’ Matt says in English, startling Sam. The words sound almost graceful, compared to the Galran they’ve been speaking. How long has it been since they spoke English together? Even when alone, they stick to Galran, trying to practice what is the most foreign language Sam’s ever heard.

‘Peece?’ Kimera mouths the word a few more times, her solid black eyes on Sam. ‘What is this ‘peece’?’ She copies the sign Sam’s making and while it looks a little awkward with only three fingers on the hand, it’s still the peace sign.

‘Peace,’ Sam corrects gently, then switches to Galran. “I ah, don’t know the word in this language but peace is when… when you don’t have to fight, because there is nothing to fight. When you work together because you-’ Sam scrambles for the word, thinking through some of his less used vocabulary, ‘-want. Because you want to not because you have to.’ Some of the beings are looking at Sam with a light in their eyes, others look as if he’s speaking English not Galran. ‘What it was like before… this,’ he continues, gesturing to the cell. ‘The world before the Galra Empire.’

‘Altea,’ Ga’Kalaaatic says in a near silent whisper, xir eyes wide. ‘The word you look for is Altea.’ Every other being in the room hisses as if struck and Sam’s heart starts to pound.

Before he can ask why they are scared, Kimera puts her hand on Ga’Kalaaatic’s wing. ‘And it is a curse word in this place. They will send us to the Gods if they hear it spoken.’

‘Then the pack shall use this ‘peace’, Jocab says, barring his teeth. ‘Spread it with this… peace sign.’ His ears perk up and Sam freezes, waiting for the footsteps of the guards. But they never come and Jocab relaxes. 

Relief floods him. ‘It’s not just a peace sign,’ he finds himself saying and he hears Matt’s tiny groan. Okay yes, he’s a teacher who likes to explain everything. So what? ‘On our planet. It has other meanings.’

‘How?’ Èhàltik asks and it takes Sam a moment to translate her question. Her species has only one type of ‘question’ word and she doesn’t seem to grasp the difference between them. 

She wants to know why maybe? ‘It started during a war, one that gripped the whole planet. My people were fighting a… a man much like this Zarkon, leading his people against us and our allies. Some of those that were conquered came up with this symbol,’ he makes the peace sign and everyone else copies it, even Ga’Kalaaatic who uses two feathers instead of fingers, ‘using the first letter of our word for ‘victory’.’

‘V for victory,’ Matt says then smiles, ‘and V for Voltron.’ Sam blinks as that link dawns on him; he’d not noticed it. 

Nodding, Sam continues, ‘My people won this war and later, during another conflict, the meaning of this sign became peace.’

‘Peace because your pack has victory?’ Which no, isn’t quite right but… But Jocab sounds revenant, a light in his eyes - a light Sam’s not seen… well ever. 

It’s mirrored in everyone’s eyes - even Enor, silent since his first objections, is staring at Sam with the same glint in his eyes.

Hope. 

Staring at Sam with  _ hope _ in his eyes. 

Real hope too, not the type Sam’s been living on, that distant hope that one day you’ll be free and tomorrow might be a brighter day. No, this is… close hope. The kind you get when there is a plan to work with, actions you can take. 

A time limit, on how much longer you have to suffer before you can cash in your hope for reality. 

The kind of hope you only have when you’re not just hoping for a future, but hoping for a  _ better _ one.

‘Peace through victory,’ Sam says, in English, and there’s a weight to his words. They echo in the cell, despite being in a necessary whisper; somehow becoming prophecy and promise in one.

‘Peace through victory,’ the cell whispers back.

********

They don’t get much time to talk to those outside their cell during the day. Honestly, they don’t get any but there’s only so many guards and with the population of the prison… 

Well a few whispered conversations slip past the radar. Brief mutters, a sentence or two of overheard rumours.

Tales of Voltron, the few times there’s more than a single stolen moment to talk.

And now, a whisper that is as loud as a lion’s roar.

Peace through victory.

********

‘It spreads,’ Enor says, five of his eyes focused on Sam. ‘Two from et cell eights door up whisper it to me.’

Sam feels himself grinning, sure his eyes are shining as bright as Matt’s are right now. ‘Good. That’s the entire row then.’

Ga’Kalaaatic flutters xir feathers, delight in xir voice. ‘Guards no hear. They whisper still of Voltron, but old battles. Old news.’

Damn. But the news about the guards not hearing is good, means so far they’ve made good choices with their trust. ‘Good. Thank you Ga’Kalaaatic,’ Sam says and manages to hide his pleased smile at the look on xir face when he gets his tongue around xir name. 

‘Our pack needs action,’ Jocab growls, then drops his voice when everyone shushes him. ‘Waiting will make the pack anxious, make victory harder.’ Tension creeps into the air, but not a bad kind - more the tension you find before a big day, waiting for the action to begin.

‘B-b-but w-w-what?’ Haore asks and Sam feels some of the energy drain from the room. 

‘Plans,’ Matt says, his voice stronger than Sam’s heard it since Kerberos. He looks at Sam through his fridge. ‘Guard routines, numbers… weapon locations.’

The tension is back with a nervous element to it. Everyone’s eyes are on Sam - he can feel them burning into him like lasers. ‘Communications,’ he adds ‘and a way out of our cells.’ He takes a breath as he feels something settle; a weight of responsibility sliding down to rest on his shoulders. 

To rest on his shoulders  _ again _ . The press of his son against him, Matt’s slave clothes damp like the walls of their cell, along with Shiro’s constant absence is a sickening reminder of the results of the last time he took responsibility. 

But if you worry about what could happen, you might miss the chance to do something great. Dwell on the past and you will dishonour the memory of those you left there.

He owes it to Shiro. He owes it to  _ Matt _ , to lead his son out of the situation he lead them into in the first place. 

‘Commander,’ Kimera says, the Galran term sending chills up Sam’s spine. She ducks her head in a bow and puts her hand on her heart, fingers in the V symbol.

‘Commander,’ the cell echoes, Matt a beat behind, copying Kimera’s movements. 

Sam bows his head to them all, his fingers in a V over his heart. ‘Peace through victory,’ he whispers.

Then he takes a deep breath and leans in. 

‘We need plans.’

********

It’s late, possibly too late for Sam to be awake with the knowledge of the draining work he’ll be facing in the morning. But he can’t sleep, his mind screaming with the details of everything they talked about, running over and over the plans again. 

Not in a constructive way though, just screaming it.

So he’s up. And, for lack of anything else to do, staring at his sleeping son.

Matt’s curled up against the wall, using Sam as a barrier to the rest of the cell, and twitching slightly. But his face is peaceful and relaxed… even more so when Sam runs his fingers through Matt’s hair, like he used to do when Matt was small and fell asleep in the car.

And for a moment Sam can almost convince himself he’s home, watching his son sleep after failing an all nighter.

‘You care for him,’ Enor whispers and Sam jumps. Matt twitches at the movement but doesn’t wake. 

Furious, Sam turns on Enor. ‘Quiet!’ he hisses and Enor ducks his head. 

Then Enor’s words register and Sam frowns. ‘Of course I do.’

Two of Enor’s eyes are on Sam, the rest at a point lower. Probably his hand, still on Matt’s head. ‘You were his Commander before but… you care still? Care more?’

‘Not all commanders are monsters,’ Kimera says and Sam blinks in confusion as she shifts closer. ‘I have heard stories of those that cared for all under their care.’ Her eyes are bright as she looks at Sam. ‘I know now that you are one of them.’

Sam feels his cheeks heat and ducks his head. ‘Yes, but Enor is some what right. I care more for Matt than I would many others I command…’ Wait, did they ever explain… ‘He is my son, after all.’

Kimera blinks. ‘I think you have the wrong word.’ Sam raises an eyebrow and she adds, ‘’Son’ is your child, one whose blood you share.’

Enor nods, the movement sending a jolt of panic through Sam that he pushes down least it show on his face. ‘You do not command et son, you have et son.’

‘I know,’ Sam says and brushes Matt’s hair aside. ‘But in this case, I am both. My people chose the best for our work and decided I would command my own child.’ He looks up and both Kimera and Enor look like he’s just declared himself a Galra.

‘He names you ‘Dad’,’ Kimera says, the English word sending a surge of warmth through Sam.

‘Father,’ he translates and Kimera sags. 

‘My sorrows for yours,’ she says and turns away to stare at the other wall. Her hands are trembling - oh God, did Sam say something wrong?

‘Father?’ Enor’s voice drags Sam’s attention from Kimera to him. ‘Is he your only-’

Enor trails off but Sam gets the idea. ‘I have a daughter on our planet. I… I don’t know how she is but I think she is safe. The Galra haven’t made it there yet.’ But it’s been so long; maybe they have. Oh God let them have not. 

‘I had et nest,’ Enor says, startling Sam with the blandness of his tone. A chill runs down Sam’s back as the words register. ‘They burned with our home.’

He looks at Sam, all eight eyes meeting his two. ‘Why would you chose to risk your nestling with fighting?’

Sam puts a hand on Matt’s heart, relieved to feel the rise of his chest. ‘Because either choice I face is impossible, in its own way. Either I - we - chose to endure our prison and just wait for rescue, or we chose to prepare and when the time comes, fight. Both could kill us, in their own ways but only one way would be a betrayal of the things I tried to teach my son as he grew.

‘I want Matt to live, not just survive, and I’m choosing the path that gives him the best chance of that.’

Enor just hums, his eyes still on Matt. Sam turns a bit, to block his view.

‘Sam?’ A lightning bolt of surprise runs through Sam at his name and he meets Kimera’s eyes. ‘You say you have a girl child?’ He nods and Kimera shifts closer.

‘Could you tell me of her?’ There’s a longing in her voice that has every part of Sam aching in sympathy. Then in anger; at Kimera’s situation - at his own - and what the Galra have done to them both.

‘Of course,’ he says. 

It’s the least he can do.

He might regret the all nighter in the morning when he bakes under the sun, but Kimera’s eyes are bright and his heart aches to hold Katie a little less so…

He’ll survive.

*********

Progress organising the prison for rebelling is slow but steady. Whispers have always spread through their prison like wildfires but now their whispers come with muttered requests that flow back as steady as the tides. A picture of the camp begins to form in Sam’s head, numbers and descriptions combining as the prison trickles information in.

It’s hard to keep it all straight without anything to record it on, but Sam’s up to the challenge. And compared to rising Matt and Katie, this is simple.

Then Matt and Enor risk everything and steal a broken tablet like device from a Galra officer. Sam wants to chew them both out for their stupidity but it  _ works _ and they have a  _ tablet. _ Electronics might be more Katie’s realm now but Sam is the one who taught her the basics, and Matt her partner in crime.

A working tablet speeds things up. 

Now Sam has maps of the camp he can annotate (from the rows and rows of cells to the central control room that seems more like a ship’s bridge than anything prison like in terms of what it can do), guards’ rosters he can memorise and watch for changes, and most importantly - the location of their armory. Weapons, just within their reach if only they reach out… 

A rebellion starts to take shape.

Ga’Kalaaatic slips naturally into the role of spymaster, xir knowledge of the guards and those that speak to them allowing xem to start to recruit more ears for their operation. Kimera turns out to be a master of misdirection and steps into the role of Ga’Kalaaatic’s second, and equivalent amongst the prisoners. Between them, Sam’s sure he knows more about the camp than the Galra commander and certainly more about Voltron.

Jocab takes charge of rallying troops - making them all pack, as he puts it - finding those who might betray their secrets and pushing for them to be frozen out. 

Sam’s certain that all but a dozen of the prisoners are now pack. It’s a strange but glorious feeling for him, looking over the endless fields of prisoners and knowing all of them are ready to rise on his command. It makes the backbreaking work easier somehow; a reason to survey his troops more than aid their enemy.

Enor, despite his earlier disbelief, falls into two equally suited roles. One, using the seemingly galaxy wide fear of spider like creatures to hide any equipment they have on himself, - Sam’s tablet being key amongst the items - and two, helping Jocab with freezing out of untrustworthy prisoners as a terrifying sort of muscle. 

Haore’s nervousness combines with Èhàltik’s knowledge of battles and strategies to form a series of plans, each adjusted for the worst. Most rely on Voltron coming but as time passes they evolve, into plans for  _ calling _ Voltron.

There’s a feeling that might be pride in Sam’s chest when Haore carefully spells the first of those plans out.

Matt is unquestionably Sam’s right hand man even as Enor steals him more and more scraps of technology to repurpose as their hacker. 

And throughout the prison, small ‘V’s begin to appear, scratched onto any surface strong enough to bear it.

********

‘Commander,’ Matt says one night, maybe two months after Sam stepped into the role. 

Sam looks over at his son, who’d been wrapped up in some piece of tech Enor brought back two days ago. Beside him, Kimera pauses in her discussion of Cell 4GT’s fighting abilities, passed to her via three other cells but still (hopefully) accurate. 

She looks as surprised as Sam feels to hear Matt address him as ‘Commander’ - Matt usually doesn’t bother with Sam’s rank un-

Unless it’s important. ‘Matt?’

‘This device,’ Matt says holding up a new tablet, the attention of every being in the cell on him, ‘it’s got a Galra biometric span on it.’ 

Sam blinks, something solid resting on his chest. ‘Like the ones for the-’

‘-locks, yes,’ Matt finishes. Sam chokes on his next breath, a noise echoed through the cell.

‘We could get out,’ Enor says, eyeing the doorway. His words echo in the cell. 

We could get out. 

Freedom, close enough to taste.

Matt shakes his head. ‘Only works from the outside.’ Sam feels his heart sinking even as others in the cell audibly sigh. 

‘Could let people out though,’ Matt adds, his words a bolt of lightning through the cloud of disappointment.

Sam’s breath catches, the weight of what Matt’s holding in his hands sinking into his stomach and leaving a confusing mixture of dread and hope. They have a way out but…

But in order to use it someone has to risk their life, be the man on the outside that sets them free. 

Looking around, Sam can see the moment the same realisation dawns on each of his cellmates… each of his  _ rebels _ . The way their eyes widen and a mixture of shock, fear, and the ever growing hope, spreads across their faces.

Who ever thought that Samuel Holt would get so good at reading alien expressions?

‘Haore? Èhàltik?’ Sam asks in a shaky voice, waiting until they look at him with wide eyes. ‘We need plans.’

They nod but it does nothing to dispel the heaviness that settled in the air, the weight of expectation. 

‘We should not tell the pack of this,’ Jocab says, each word sounding tortured, like they’re being dragged out of him. ‘It would divide them.’

Have them asking why they don’t act now, instead of waiting for Voltron. 

A traitorous part of Sam is asking the same thing. Ignoring the reality that if they did rebel, there’s nowhere to go. No way to stop the Galra calling for reinforcements, nor any way to defend against any air attacks. They’d be sacrificing their lives for nothing.

_ But is it any better than sacrificing our lives for a fading hope? _ The voice whispers. 

Looking around the cell, Sam’s sure he’s not the only one wondering. ‘We will keep this to ourselves,’ he says and waits until everyone has nodded. 

For now, that will have to do.

******* 

Two weeks later, Enor is knocked aside by a rushing guard as the prisoners are being returned to their cells. He stumbles, thrown by the sudden contact that his appearance usually keeps away.

One of the tablets he’s been hiding, tied to the bottom of his body, falls. It clatters along the ground and stops with a final sounding thunk at the feet of the guard that knocked him over. The Galra looks from it - still intact despite the fall - to Enor, and back.

Then the guard’s face twists into an expression of absolute hatred, his lips curling and fists clenching.

Sam’s heart stops. 

Oh  _ no _ .

‘Vermin!’ the guard cries, using the prisoner’s dialect of Galran instead of his own. He pulls Enor out of line and Sam finds himself stepping backwards, up against the wall and out of reach of the enraged guard.

But Matt doesn’t move. He’s the only one who doesn’t.

Sam’s moving before he can think, grabbing the back of Matt’s shirt with his bound hands and dragging his son back against the wall. Matt struggles but he’s bound too and Sam - despite his age - has far more experience in restraining struggling men than Matt has in escaping. 

‘Don’t look,’ Sam whispers and lets Matt bury his face into Sam’s chest. ‘Don’t look.’ He covers Matt’s ears as much as possible, ignoring the way his shirt is already damp from his son’s tears. 

Instead, he focuses on Enor, meeting the alien’s eight eyes as the guard starts to beat him. The monster doesn’t even bother getting a weapon, just uses his bare hands to beat the unresisting Enor. 

Sam can see, in the corner of his eyes, other guards pointing their weapons at the remaining prisoners as a silent ‘do not dare to move’ but he cannot find it in himself to care. He just watches the beating, each strike a blow to his heart that has him flinching and gritting his teeth.

Another blow and the pounding rage in his heart burns, an ever increasing inferno that consumes him with each drop of Enor’s white blood that spills over the floor. 

As it is, Enor’s legs have begun to curl - looking more and more like an Earth spider. His eyes flicker shut, then two of them open and stare his murderer down.

‘Peace through victory,’ he says, the English as out of place here as God’s voice would be in Hell. ‘V for victory and V for VOLTRON.’

Enor’s eyes shut and his body curls all the way up as the guard stumbles back, fear on his face. He meets Sam’s eyes.

Sam stares him down, aware of the stupidity of this move but far too gone to care. 

Then Matt drives his elbow into Sam’s stomach, forcing the air from his lungs with a painful huff. Sam looks down, breaking his stare as he tries to figure out what the hell Matt is doing. What is he trying to-

‘Don’t look,’ Matt whispers and the echo of his own words is like ice, taking enough off the rage that Sam can think. ‘ _ Commander _ ,’ Matt adds, in English and the ice is now a bucket, extinguishing all but the most stubborn of flames, ‘don’t look.’

They stay there, huddled against the wall together, until the guards scream and drag the prisoners the rest of the way to their cells.

Enor’s body is left where he fell, legs curled and still. 

But if you look closely, you would swear his back legs make a ‘V’ shape. 

Looking back, it’s all Sam can see.

*********

There’s a dark silence in the cell, heavy with the words not being spoken. 

Sam’s up against the back wall, Matt curled into his side like he’s two instead of twenty. He’d been forced to release Sam during their march back to the cell, but the second they were inside he’d grabbed Sam like he was the north pole of a magnet and Matt the south pole. His grip is probably as strong as a magnet’s. 

The rest of Sam’s cellmates are between him and the door, hiding him from view. 

‘We have to act,’ Matt finally says, breaking the silence with his shaky voice. 

‘The pack will require action,’ Jocab agrees from his place by the door. Tension is in every inch of him and he doesn’t look back, keeping his eyes on the outside hallway. ‘If we give it none, we will lose members.’

Haore makes her whinnying whimper noise. ‘W-w-we lost our equipment. Th-th-they w-w-will search us all tomorrow, looking for more. How can w-w-we act now?’ She buries her head into Kimera’s side, getting as close to her as Matt is to Sam.

Matt, who tenses at Haore’s words. ‘Matt?’ Sam asks, pulling back so he can see his son’s face.

‘Matt has news?’ Ga’Kalaaatic pauses in xir pacing, sliding down to the floor with a shower of feathers. Xe looks Matt in the eye. ‘You has something to say?’

With a deep breath, Matt reaches under his shirt and pulls out another tablet. It is identical to the one Enor died for, except for the small nick on the right hand side.

The nick Matt put there himself, so he knew which tablet had the Galra bioscan on it.

Sam’s breath catches and suddenly feels like he is floating on a cloud. ‘Matt-’

‘I was working with it last night and didn’t have time to give it to Enor this morning.’ Matt meets the eyes of the others, pride in his gaze. ‘We have to move. Tomorrow.’

Jocab nods with a smile but Ga’Kalaaatic shakes xir head. ‘We need Voltro-’

‘No, we don’t.’ Sam says and then realises he’s said it. Feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes, he continues, ‘We need Voltron for three things: Air support, preventing reinforcements, and a signal to begin.

‘So we need to address those three issues. Jocab, as soon as we begin you need to get a pack to the fighters and wreck them or anyone that comes to fly one. If they don’t take off, we won’t need air support.’

Ga’Kalaaatic breathes in with a faint whistle. ‘Prevent reinforcements by jam signal.’

Sam nods. ‘Matt can do that, if Èhàltik can organise a group to get him to controls.’ Èhàltik nods, fire in her slitted eyes. 

‘And we just need a signal,’ Sam adds, looking down at the tablet in his hands. ‘A distraction and signal in one.’ 

Freeing all the prisoners, he doesn’t say but the words hang in the cell anyway. 

Almost certainly a suicide mission, after today.

‘That is easy then,’ Kimera says looking to Èhàltik. ‘Plan the way I can free the most people before I am caught.’ At Kimera’s side Haore makes another whimpering noise that has Kimera stroking her face.

Wait, what? ‘You’ll not be going,’ Sam says, his voice firm. ‘I will.’ 

‘Dad, no!’ Matt cries and the rest of the cell shushes him. Sam ignores his son, despite the way it makes his heart clench, as he stares Kimera down.

Kimera gives him a soft smile and shakes her head. ‘I have said before, I do not know freedom. I do not know peece.’ Her deliberate mispronunciation of ‘peace’ makes Sam smile even as he feels his heart tearing in half at her words. ‘I have longed for the Gods’ release for many years but listened when a voice told me not to make my own path for it. Now I know why. If I live, I will know peace and if I do not, I will know the Gods’ peace.’

She looks at Matt, drawing Sam’s gaze to his son. ‘You are Commander and you are ‘Dad’. I am Kimera and I will be the one to free our rebels.’

Sam wipes away the tears trickling down his face and nods. ‘You are Kimera, the Liberator.’

‘Peace through victory,’ she replies.

They make plans.

********

The next day Kimera is in the middle of their line as they return to their cell, Matt’s tablet hidden under her clothes. When she slips out of line just as they pass through one of the guards’ blind spots, Matt steps forward and Sam steps back. 

It hides her absence, makes it look as if they were always together.

Sam can feel the tension in the prison, the sense of anticipation so like the Garrison had been in the last days before his mission had launched. It’s the tension of waiting when you cannot plan anymore and you must surrender to the passage of time, hoping it passes quicker than it currently is. 

And hoping, somehow, that it doesn’t pass at all.

The guards don’t bother with a count as they throw Sam’s group into their cell, instead slamming the door shut as soon as they can. Sam rubs his now unbound wrists and looks at Ga’Kalaaatic.

‘They scared,’ xe says fluffing xir feathers up. ‘They expect more trouble today, for Enor. We no give it and they scared.’

Damn. ‘They’ll be on alert then.’ Sam massages his forehead and sighs. ‘Can’t be helped.’ He looks at the door, sighs again then sits down. Matt instantly drops down beside him, grabbing his hand.

Sam squeezes it. ‘Now to wait,’ he says and his team settles in.

*********

Kimera does not take long. 

‘Cell 2GT is free and in weapons room,’ she says as the door opens. ‘Cells 3GT to 8GT are waiting in open cells for Jocab.’

Sam nods, running his eyes over the sign for 1GT that hangs outside their cell. So the entire row is free. ‘Èhàltik, get Matt to controls.’ Èhàltik nods, grabbing Matt’s arm.

He shrugs it off and pulls Sam into a hug. ‘Be safe Dad.’ The English he uses is like a comforting blessing and Sam relaxes into his arms.

‘You too son,’ Sam replies in the same language. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

Matt steps back, tears in his eyes. ‘Love you,’ he whispers then lets Èhàltik drag him away.

‘And I love you,’ Sam tells his retreating back. 

Then he blinks away the tears and steels himself, pushing down the choking worry in his heart. There’s no time. ‘Keep going Liberator,’ he orders and Kimera nods, shutting the door.

But it doesn’t beep. It’s not locked. 

Perfect. 

Now to wait.

Tonight is going to be a lot of waiting, Sam’s sure.

And despite the way his heart is pounding and his breath coming in choked gasps, he’s also sure he can take it. 

He has to.

******** 

The lights in the hallway flash three times.

Matt’s signal. 

He has the control room.

_ He has the control room _ . 

‘Go!’ Sam roars at Jocab, already halfway out the door and sprinting to meet his pack. They only have moments to get to the hangers, hopefully meeting those from cell 2GT for their weapons on the way. 

It’ll be a one sided fight if they don’t meet.

‘Come on,’ Haore whispers, tugging at Sam’s arm. ‘Kimera said I should take you to the c-c-control room.’

Sam frowns. ‘That wasn’t the plan.’ Honestly, he’s never let anyone plan for him, thinking he’ll move from location to location as needed.

Haore shakes her head, mane whipping around in her distress. ‘You’re… you’re  _ Commander _ . W-w-we need you to command.’

And hanging in the air, but going unspoken is a single thought - how can you do that if you’re not somewhere central? 

Well, at least until Matt manages to get the rebels a form of communications. 

Sam nods and has to hide a smile at the way Haore relaxes. ‘Lead the way,’ he says.

At least he’ll be by his son’s side.

********

Only of course, Matt’s not in the control room when they get there. Because of course he’s not. Sam’s son is better than his daughter, but they’re both prone to not being where they’re supposed to be. 

And being found in places they really shouldn’t be. Katie’s got a list of bans and one near arrest to prove it; while Matt escaped actual arrest only because his sister is more than willing (and capable) of lying to protect her brother.

Oh lord does Sam miss Katie.

But now’s not the time to dwell on it.

Two Galra guards are unconscious by the door, another half dozen have been shoved into a corner. Sam shouldn’t feel as proud as he does at the sight of each body but it fills him up anyway, a warmth that lifts him up and makes the idea of walking on clouds plausible. 

At the control panel is Ga’Kalaaatic. Xe looks up as Sam walks into the room and nods, the movement getting the two prisoners at xir side to lower their weapons. Sam eyes the guns, sure they’re from the guards and another bolt of pride ripples through him. 

They are actually doing this and doing it  _ right _ .

‘What’s our situation?’ Sam asks and Ga’Kalaaatic’s guards exchange a look, the smaller, many handed alien on the right giving the blue, Kimera like alien on the left a tiny shrug.

‘External communications jam.’ Matt’s second job, and the most important. Now the Galra have no way to call reinforcements and Sam’s rebels have a fighting chance. ‘We has the cameras but we share internal commications,’ Ga’Kalaaatic grunts out, xir eyes still on the screens. ‘Èhàltik and Matt go to find false Commander; stop him using communications.’

Of course they did. ‘And how is the battle going?’

Ga’Kalaaatic nods at the smaller alien. ‘Jowin?’

Jowin gives Sam a wide eyed look. ‘Eee?’ they say, half of their hands grabbing its pair.

‘Tell Commander battle state.’

Now  _ both _ of Ga’Kalaaatic’s guards are giving Sam the most confused looks he’s ever seen on any face. ‘Commander?’ Jowin asks, reverence in their voice.

Sam sighs, shaking his head. ‘Tell me about the battle,’ he says with a touch of a bite in his words.

Jowin straightens, meeting his eyes. ‘The guards are overwhelmed, and all our prisoners freed. The only close fight is in the hanger - we’re in but they still have control of some of it.’

‘Shit,’ Sam swears. ‘We have communications, right?’

‘The ones guards use,’ Ga’Kalaaatic says, tilting xir head and tearing xir eyes away from the screen to look at Sam. ‘They hear every word you say.’

Sam just smiles as he picks up the communicator. ‘That doesn’t mean they’ll understand it.’

‘Red Five this is Echo Seven,’ he says into it, the use of the in joke sending a wave of familiar warmth through him. 

It takes a minute then, ‘ _ Echo Seven, this is Red Five, _ ’ Matt says, also in English. 

Now how to word this… ‘Need you to delay your run on Vader there, go see how the Death Star runs are going.’

A long silence. Come on Matt, you can understand this…  _ ‘You got it Han, _ ’ Matt finally says, a laugh in his voice.  _ ‘Think you can stop a  _ _ Tantive IV _ _ from up there? _ ’

Tantive IV? Oooh hang on, that was the ship’s name. Sam distantly remembers it coming up in the trivia game Matt and Shiro had run while going to Kerberos. Princess Leia’s ship. 

The ship that had been incepted while carrying important plans for the rebels. 

‘I’ll work on it. Echo Seven out.’ 

_ ‘Red Five out _ .’ 

Sam takes a moment to commit Matt’s voice to memory, to tuck its sounds deep into his heart, before turning to the rest of the room. 

Who are all looking at him - even Ga’Kalaaatic - like he’s just grown another head. 

‘Was that… a conversation?’ Jowin asks.

Nodding, Sam flicks up a screen on the panel below him. ‘It was. My son and I were using our own language.’

‘And if guards has translator?’ 

Sam has to smirk at this, pulling up a screen that looks - no, that will just extend Matt’s external jam to  _ all _ signals, they need something more specific than that. Can he transfer Matt’s work over to internal communications? 

Nope, not with this workstation. Damn it.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he says, glancing up at Ga’Kalaaatic, ‘we spoke in code.’ He gets up, moving to another panel. ‘How are we-’

_ ‘Dad! _ ’ Matt’s voice rings out in the room, as the sound of shots echo from outside. Sam jumps as Jowin and their fellow guard race to the door to seal it. 

‘Matt?’ He tries to grab a gun but Haore pushes him down and puts herself between him and the door.

‘Organise rebels,’ she says picking up the gun he’d been aiming for. ‘W-w-we w-w-will organise this.’

‘ _ Dad we need a seal on the hanger now!’  _ Matt’s not bothering with code. Shit. ‘ _ A ship’s taking off and we can’t get it down!’ _

Fuck. If a ship takes off, it will be able to go beyond the jam Matt’s got on external communications. Panic surges through him, his heart pounding at the thought of Galra reinforcements - of the Galra  _ knowing _ about their rebellion.

Sam turns to Ga’Kalaaatic. ‘There’s a ship taking off. Shoot it down!’

Ga’Kalaaatic scrambles to another station, even as the blasts at the door increase. ‘Weapons offline!’ xe screeches, each word a striking blow to Sam, like a knife to the heart. ‘It beyond seal!’ xe adds as a final kick to his falling hopes.

‘We can’t,’ he tells his son, the pain he’s feeling lingering in every syllable he speaks. ‘You  _ have _ to do this Matt.’

_ ‘Dad,’ _ he says in a  broken and defeated voice. Just like the one he’d had when he came here, fresh from the area - and Shiro’s sacrifice.  _ ‘Dad, we  _ can’t.’

Sam pulls up the outside cameras, watching the ship rise through the sky. Blaster bolts are being fired at it but they fall far short. Matt’s right; they can’t bring it do-

‘Commander! We has another ship in atmosphere!’ Ga’Kalaaatic cries. The words don’t register in Sam’s mind for a long second, until a blast of panic surges through him and sets his heart pounding.

Then his mind clears enough to notice the  _ joy _ in Ga’Kalaaatic’s voice. He throws the view from the outside cameras onto the large screen on the other wall, expanding what he’s able to see. And sure enough, the thing dropping from the sky is most certainly not a Galra ship.

Because the Galra don’t use flying red lions as their ships. It would go against their ridiculous colour scheme. 

A distant part of Sam’s mind notes that he might be a bit hysterical but there is a flying red lion tearing the Galra ship apart and he has every right to hysteria. 

_ ‘This is the Red Paladin of Voltron,’  _ a voice says over the communicators. It echoes, sounding from every device capable of transmitting. Not a directed message then; this is meant for everyone. ‘ _ We are here to liberate this planet. Any Galra who resist will be eliminated; any who surrender will be shown mercy. _ ’

Outside the door, the sounds of blaster fire suddenly holts. Sam breathes a sigh of relief just as something on screen catches his eyes.

Four more lions are coming down from the atmosphere, to float over the prison. One blue, one black, one yellow, and one green. Behind them, a huge white castle like ship hovers, glinting dangerously in the sunlight despite the beauty of its columns.

Voltron.

Voltron came. 

_ Voltron came _ . 

But… they are already free.

They don’t  _ need _ Voltron. 

Sam reaches for his communicator. ‘Matt can you get me onto all frequencies?’ He’d try himself but he only has one chance to get this right and Matt’s always been better with technology.

‘ _ One sec.’ _ Sam stares out at the hovering lions, all so clearly tense and ready for battle. It’s a stalemate right now because of the rebellion but it won’t be for long. And if Voltron attacks, unaware of Sam’s rebels…

He’s not losing his people to the very thing they’re fighting for.

_ ‘Got it Dad! You’ll be on all frequencies in five seconds _ .’

Okay. Sam focuses on his son, on his people, and counts.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

‘I am the Commander,’ Sam says and hides the way he jolts a the sound of his voice as it echoes through the hallways. It doesn’t sound like he remembers it sounding in previous recordings - it’s harder, with a note of anger he didn’t realise was simmering away under his skin. ‘I am the leader of the prisoners here. We have taken this prison and are in the process of subduing Galra resistance. It is our victory; our peace.’ 

‘ _ Do you require assistance? _ ’ a woman asks, something in her accent pinging as British to Sam.

It’s then it dawns on him that he’s understanding Voltron in English and that they are not speaking Galran. A universal translator. What technology they must have! 

But getting off track Sam.

Taking a deep breath, aware of the silence ringing throughout the faculty as both his rebels and the Galra wait for his answer, Sam nods. ‘We seem to be lacking air support. If your ah, lions, could fulfill that role we would be… grateful.’

‘ _ Consider it done _ ,’ a  _ familiar _ voice says, every word a punch of hope to the gut. ‘ _ Paladins, to the hanger! _ ’ The lions tear away, and Sam gets the sense of a disconnected call; they’ve finished speaking for now.

Sam swallows back the name sitting on his tongue and silently begs Matt to have the sense to do the same. It  _ can’t _ be, but if it is… they don’t have time. They have to take this prison, have to earn their peace through victory. Fulfill their - Sam’s - responsibilities to these people,  _ his _ people, before Sam can chase the ghosts of his last mission - last failure.

Taking advantage of the fact he’s still being broadcast to all, Sam switches to Galran. ‘We have your prison. We will have Altea. You can choose to die in service of your empire but know that you die for nothing. Peace through victory!’

‘Peace through victory!’ the room around Sam echoes.

He smiles without meaning to then waits. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Fo-

A Galran voice, calling from outside the door. 

‘They surrender!’ Ga’Kalaaatic cries, just as the guard repeats what he said in the prisoners’ dialect. 

Sam smiles, a real one that makes his face hurt as he uses muscles he’s not had cause to use for months, if not years. 

‘Well then. Let’s get to work.’

*********

Cleaning up after a battle is almost as hard as the battle itself was. 

The battle ends when Kimera kills the Galra commander - her final act before going to join her Gods. One of Sam’s rebels screams out the death on every communication device she can find until Matt picks it up and broadcasts it, a bolt of joy in the bloodshed. 

As one, the remaining Galra fighters surrender. 

Despite this, Sam is still confined to the control room with a pair of guards. Haore demands the place of one, her eyes fierce at the thought of being replaced. Jowin silently begs for the second and Sam grands it in a moment, pleased when they light up. 

Èhàltik drags Matt back, silent despite his clear reluctance to seek the safety of the rebel controlled room. 

When Sam sees him and the blood covering his hands and front, it starts to dawn on him why Matt is silent.

‘Who?’ he asks, after he runs his hands over his son and finds no injuries. Even so, a voice in the back of his head pushes him to keep looking because what if he’s missed something? What if Matt  _ is  _ hurt and he’s not seen it?

‘Jocab,’ Matt whispers, turning his hands over and over. Sam signals at Jowin to grab a scrap of material from one of the dead Galra. It takes them a moment - and some frantic flailing - to understand what he wants but Matt doesn’t seem to notice.

With gentle movements, Sam kneels back down in front of Matt and wipes the blood off his son’s hands. While doing so, he looks at Èhàltik. ‘Is he still alive?’

She glances at Matt but nods slowly. ‘He livessss but barely.’ There’s a long pause as Èhàltik looks at Matt consideringly, then sighs. ‘He put himssself between the Galra and Matt. Hisss injury ssssaved your ssssson’sss life.’

Matt whines as he falls forward, leaning onto Sam’s chest. Sam wraps an arm around him and clings; ignoring how the blood in his body has gone cold and his heart has stopped. ‘Go. See if Voltron has anything that can help.’ She nods but Sam holds up a hand to stop her leaving. ‘Work with them to get help for all the wounded, it’s the number one thing.’

‘I will ssssend a Paladin here,’ she says from her place hovering in the door. ‘Their leader, to talk with you.’

Of course she will, Sam thinks with a deep bolt of anxiety that has his skin crawling and throat tightening. Èhàltik’s ability to see the bigger picture, to plan for the future, was one of the critical things that got them through this rebellion but right now it’s annoying as hell. Sam doesn’t  _ want _ to be the rebel leader, negotiating with another rebellious army to see who gets control of what. He doesn’t want to figure out what comes next, not right now.

Right now he wants to hold his son, cling to the reminder that his boy is alive despite everything his tormentors tried. 

Help Matt deal with the fact that he’s alive because of  _ another _ person’s actions, another miracle for Sam that’s going to haunt Matt until his dying days. 

Jowin taps at Sam’s shoulder and he blinks. How long has he been clinging to Matt? 

‘Yes?’

‘The Black Paladin, head of Voltron, and  _ his _ leader approach; they wish to speak with us.’  _ With you _ , hangs in the air but goes unspoken.

Two leaders. Sounds like Sam’s getting the Voltron equivalent of the entire upper command of the Garrison.

Pushing down the way his heart is frantically pounding, Sam rises. At his side a trembling Matt does the same, his grip on Sam’s arm iron tight. Without speaking they shift into a position where Matt’s grip doesn’t look weak; instead seemingly like he’s flanking his leader as a proper second in command would.

‘The Commander is in here,’ an unfamiliar voice says, probably a rebel Èhàltik has sent to escort their guests to Sam. 

Sam takes a deep breath and steels his spine. He lifts his head and pushes all thoughts that aren’t related to what’s happening to the back of his mind.

He’s ready.

A tall, dark skinned woman walks through the door, so much confidence oozing from her every step that Sam has the ridiculous urge to bow. Her white armour has pink highlights - she must be the leader above the head of Voltron that Jowin spoke of, though Sam has no memory of a pink lion. Perhaps she is the pilot of the castle?

Then the Black Paladin walks in, his helmet in his hands like the woman, and Sam’s heart stops. 

‘Shiro?’ Matt whispers, a ringing noise in the sudden silence. Sam feels like he is floating, his limbs weak and unable to hold him but it doesn’t matter because  _ Shiro  _ is standing before him as healthy as he’s ever been.

Sure there’s a large scar across his face and his hair has gone white but what do those matter in comparison to the reality of Shiro  _ standing _ before him? 

‘Matt?’ Shiro says, dropping his helmet and Matt sobs. Then his grip vanishes from Sam’s arm as he throws himself at Shiro. Shiro, who catches Matt and pulls him into his chest, lifting Matt off the ground in his enthusiasm with a faint twirl. ‘Matt!’ he says again, all of the wonder Sam’s feeling in his tone.

‘You’re alive!’ Matt says, then buries his head in Shiro’s chest. ‘You’re  _ alive _ .’

He’s  _ alive _ .

Sam finds himself moving without thinking, a burning desire to feel Shiro with his own hands, to check that this isn’t a dream or a trick of his mind. In the corner of his eye he sees the woman Shiro came in with take a step forward but then Shiro looks up.

‘Commander!’ he says, his face as bright as it had been when he saw Matt.

‘Takashi,’ Sam breathes, the name falling off his tongue with an easy grace that feels so right, so  _ perfect. _ He reaches around Matt, pulling both boys into a hug. ‘My boy, you’re  _ alive _ .’ 

Hang on, what did Shiro call him? ‘And haven’t I told you to call me Sam?’

Shiro makes a noise, a choking noise that has Sam pulling back a bit to try and look at his face. But Shiro holds tight, his grip iron (and far stronger than anything Sam remembers from before) as he puts his head down. 

They stay there together for a long moment that Sam is content to never have end. He has  _ both _ his boys now; the two bright young ones he lead into disaster safe and free in his arms despite everything. 

Why would he want to let go? 

But it cannot last. ‘Shiro?’ the woman says and Shiro sighs. 

Then tenses. ‘Pidge!’ he says, letting both Sam and Matt go to look at the woman. Matt stumbles a bit at the loss of contact but Sam is there, pulling his son back into his arms and gripping him tightly. 

He looks at Shiro. ‘Pidge?’ he asks, the familiar word sounding foreign in this context. Why is Shiro using Katie’s childhood nickname as some sort of code word?

‘On the way,’ the woman says in a quiet voice, before turning to Sam. ‘I am Allura,’ she says in a much louder voice, ‘of Altea.’

The room gasps, a chorus of disbelief that Sam isn’t feeling. He’s not sure he’s capable of feeling anything more right now, full as he is with the relief of Shiro’s return. 

But he has a duty. ‘I am Samuel Holt, the Commander, leader of the rebels here,’ he says, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as shaky to her as it does to him. ‘We have taken this prison in the name of peace - in the name of Altea.’

‘Peace through victory!’ Matt says and the rebels - Sam’s rebels - echo it. 

Shiro looks like Sam just punched him in the gut. Or maybe like Sam just walked into the room naked; it’s a very interesting expression. Even Allura looks taken back, blinking a bit at Sam’s pronouncement. 

‘In the name of Altea?’ she says, her voice sounding exactly like Ga’Kalaaatic had when Sam had explained his plan to fight for their freedom. Half disbelieving and half hopeful - so hopeful in fact, that it hurts. 

‘I am told it is the Galran word for peace,’ Sam says gently, like he would speak to Katie when she’s upset. But then he steels his tone a touch, just enough to give him some force. ‘We have wounded-’

‘They are already on route to the Castle of Lions,’ Shiro cuts in with an eager tone. ‘We’ll do everything we can for them.’

Relief makes Sam dizzy. ‘Thank you.’

He’s about to ask what else they need to discuss, what other details have to be ironed out before Sam can steal Shiro and Matt away to talk about  _ everything _ , when he hears footsteps pounding up the hallway. Jowin and Haore instantly put themselves between the door and Sam, weapons held high if not strictly raised yet.

‘Wait-’ Shiro cries, holding out a hand. 

He’s cut off by a voice outside, a  _ familiar _ voice that Sam knows deep in his bones. That he would never fail to recognise because he’s known it all her life. ‘What’s happened Allura?’  _ Katie _ says. ‘Surely the rebels have a tech guy that can he-’

A figure in armour like Shiro’s, but with green highlights, enters the room as Sam frantically waves Jowin and Haore down. Unlike Shiro and Allura, they’re wearing their helmet.

But that doesn’t matter. Sam would know his Katie anywhere.

‘Katie?’ Matt says as Katie freezes in place, eyes wide behind her visor. 

Sam doesn’t bother to speak. He just throws himself across the room and pulls Katie into his arms, lifting her into the air so as to get closer. She’s a lot heavier than she was the last time he held her but she reacts exactly the same way - freezing, then throwing her arms around him to squeeze with an iron grip.

‘Dad!’ she cries and her grip somehow tightens. 

Then Matt slams into Sam’s back, sending him stumbling. Stumbling so much that he has to fall to his knees else he’ll fall on Katie. She stays in his arms, despite the fall, and Matt shifts around so he’s hugging her from behind. 

Someone - Shiro probably, reaches into their hug and pulls Katie’s helmet off. Sam feels a rush of relief at regaining the ability to see Katie’s face again before it’s washed away by a bolt of horror.

Katie’s changed so much. Too much. God what has the Galra robbed him of?

Her hair is much shorter, making her look more like Matt’s twin than his little sister. There are dark shadows under her eyes and a haunted look that lingers in the corner of them, despite the overwhelming joy that shines from every inch of her face.

‘You’re  _ alive _ ,’ Katie whispers and buries her head into Sam’s shoulder. ‘I  _ knew _ it, I  _ knew _ it.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Sam finally asks, pulling back a bit. Katie makes a noise of protest that Matt echoes; a sound that resonates in Sam. He doesn’t want to let go but this is  _ impossible _ and the scientist in him demands answers. 

Besides if he doesn’t start to let go now, he’ll never let go.

‘Looking for you,’ Katie says like it explains everything. Which, okay it probably does but it’s missing a few key points. 

Like  _ how  _ she got here.

‘Katie-’ Sam starts to say then jumps when someone else puts their hand on his shoulder.

He looks up to see Shiro, flanked by Haore and Jowin. A dash of guilt seeps into his bones. He has responsibilities he’s neglecting, duties to people he has to fulfill before he can exist with his daughter.

It’s a guilt he knows well, though usually he feels it the other way. No matter how he tried, there have been times duty has kept him from his children. That his child would be his duty had been a highlight of the Kerberos mission, right up until his failure at his duties meant failing as a father too.

‘Pidge?’ Shiro says, his eyes on Katie who is looking at Sam’s chest with a determined set to her jaw. ‘We need your father; we have to talk about what happens next.’

Katie looks up at Shiro, her eyes hard. ‘I’m not leaving them.’

Sam rises, pulling Katie and Matt - who is still attached to his sister - up with him. ‘You don’t have to.’ He gives Shiro a look, which gets him a nod and a smile. ‘You and Matt can poke at the systems in here, see if there’s anything worthwhile on the computers here.’

Katie’s eyes light up. ‘I can check the transfer records fo-’ she trails off, her smile going a bit sideways as a manic light comes into her eyes. ‘No, I don’t need to check the records. I  _ have _ you guys.’

‘Let’s check anyway,’ Matt says, pulling Katie away. The moment her grip slips off Sam’s body he feels its absence, like a gaping hole in his chest, but he pushes past it. 

He has work to do. 

There will be time later.

_ There will be time later _ .

Oh God there’ll be time later. He has a later.

A brighter tomorrow.

A future.

_ Freedom _ .

So for now, he can suffer through his duties knowing his future is his own again. There’s a whole new day coming, and it’s going to be a better one. 

And for the first time in a long time, that’s a certainty instead of a hope.

Sam breathes in, enjoying the taste of free air, then gets to work.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have some vague thoughts about other fics in this universe/canon compliment fics like this on details that got left out of this (like the Holts' finding out about Shiro's arm for example) if anyone is interested.
> 
> Feel free to come scream at me about the Holts in the comments or come to [ my tumblr](http://prettybirdy979.tumblr.com/).


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